


Definition Achieved

by Bitterblue33



Series: Definitions [2]
Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Alex Standall, Coming Out, Cuddling, Family Dinners, Fluff, M/M, Mild Smut, Soft Boys, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, justlex, not a slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-05-30 12:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15096386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitterblue33/pseuds/Bitterblue33
Summary: “We’ve had sex 14 times. That should make us boyfriends by now, right?”Alex and Justin explore what it means to be boyfriends and tackle telling their friends and families about their new relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow-up of sorts to my two-shot “Why Worry About Defining Everything.” However, it’s not necessary to read that first.
> 
> Setting: First Semester, Senior Year

Alex’s fingers shook as he tried to move them into position on the guitar strings. It was such a simple chord progression, but he couldn’t manage it without a long pause. It had once been so easy for him. Now he sounded like a complete beginner. But, to be fair, he had been playing ( _trying_ to play) for the last ten minutes, and his fingers were getting tired. 

Alex took a deep breath in, held it for a five count, and then released it. It was what his therapist had told him to do when he got frustrated. There was no reason to get worked up over this. After all, it had only been a few months ago that E Minor had seemed an impossible feat. Now it was attainable. 

Small steps.

To calm himself further, Alex looked over at Justin, who was currently on his stomach, forearms braced on an open history textbook, his fingers furiously texting Clay. It was a familiar sight these days. Justin on his bed, an empty house, just the two of them…

It had become routine. Every Wednesday, Justin would come over after school. Alex would practice chords on the guitar while Justin pestered Clay with endless texts and emojis until Clay caved and emailed them his study notes for Friday’s history quiz. Clay always finished them early, and Justin had no shame in taking advantage. For Alex, it was an added perk to having a friend (boyfriend?) with a nerd for a brother.

Justin’s phone buzzed with another incoming text, which immediately elicited a sound of discontentment from him. Justin caught Alex’s eye and shook his head in irritation. Clay had apparently not yet given in. It took more persistence some days than others. Maybe Justin would have to promise to do Clay’s chores for the week in exchange for the answers; he’d done that in the past to speed up the process. Alex secretly hoped he would. He wanted Justin’s attention all to himself.

Justin began to type a reply. The tip of his tongue was sticking out of the left corner of his mouth, and his t-shirt had ridden up his back, showcasing an expanse of smooth skin and the barest hint of his boxer briefs. Alex unashamedly stared. 

He wanted to do more than stare. He wanted to get off. He wanted to get Justin off. He wanted to define what he and Justin had become. While there had been no expectations when they had first started hooking up, Alex's heart had since gotten involved in the mix. What he and Justin had was more than casual no-strings-attached sex, and judging by the sweet nothings Justin threw out these days, _love_ wasn't off the table. If it were true ( _please, please let it be true_ ), then the nebulous lack of labels surrounding what they were... It was like an itch Alex couldn't scratch.

Alex reached over to drop his guitar off the side of his bed, propping it up against the wall. Then he crossed his legs and leaned closer to Justin.

“We've had sex 14 times,” he said. 

At Alex's words, Justin's phone dropped from between his fingers and landed on his textbook. He stared at Alex, open-mouthed. "What?"

“We’ve had sex 14 times,” Alex repeated. “That should make us boyfriends by now, right? Officially.”

Justin’s expression went from surprise to bafflement. “You've been counting how many times we've had sex?”

Alex did not understand what was wrong. “Yeah, I have to. How else am I going to track how much progress I’ve made?”

Justin pushed his textbook and phone aside and laughed. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Alex sighed. “Well, I’ve had an orgasm 8 times since we started fucking. And you... You've come 17 times. Which is clearly an unbalanced ratio. I'm aiming for more like 3:4.”

Justin buried his head in the bed sheets.

“What? It's a valid measure of my recovery!” He reached out and ran his hand through Justin’s hair. He gripped the short strands and gave a slight tug. 

Justin raised his head. His face was serious. “Does it really bother you that I... you know?”

“Ejaculate more often than I do?” 

A slight red tint colored Justin’s cheeks. “Fuck, Standall. Way to make it sound hot.”

Alex brushed his fingers along Justin’s forehead, down over his eyelashes (Justin blinked in reflex), along his cheekbone, finally resting them on his chapped lips. Justin opened his mouth, so Alex slowly pushed his thumb inside. Justin sucked on it suggestively, his tongue making maddening swirls around the circumference. _Fuck_. Before Alex got too distracted, he pulled his thumb out and trailed it down to Justin’s chin before dropping his hand and wiping the wetness off on his sheets. Justin groaned in disappointment.

“Why would it bother me that I get you off?” Alex resumed. “That’s kind of the goal. Plus, it is hot for me, you know. To watch you come—even if I can't get my dick to get the message half the time.” Alex paused. “It's not like you aren't trying to get me off. You're very attentive. You get full points for effort.”

“Yeah, well, I like a challenge.” Justin flipped himself over and pushed himself up the bed until he was sitting next to Alex, their shoulders and hips touching. Justin leaned in, so Alex gave him a light peck on the lips before pushing him back gently. 

“So, boyfriends? Yes or no?” Alex tried not to sound nervous or to look impatient when Justin took a long time to respond.

“Yes,” Justin finally said. He didn’t look at Alex. “I want to be, but… do we really have to tell people?”

Alex felt a familiar anger flare up. “Fuck, Justin! Why shouldn’t we? Are you ashamed to be seen with me or something?” Alex pushed against Justin’s shoulder with his left hand in order to get the needed leverage to scoot over and put as much space between them as he could.

“Fuck, no! I’m not ashamed! But what are people going to think of you hooking up with _me_? A lot of people still think that I let Bryce… you know… with Jess. Which makes me like rapist adjacent or something. Am I who you really want to be seen dating?” 

Alex shook his head in annoyance. Justin always made things unnecessarily complicated. “You’re not a fucking rapist. No one thinks that. And, yeah, some people at school are going to be dicks about us being together, but that’s because they’re fucking dicks.” Alex took a deep breath and then lowered his voice, aiming for a more soothing tone. “Nobody who’s worth anything will care. Clay doesn’t care.”

“I know,” Justin murmured, but he didn’t sound like he really believed it. He reached out his hand imploringly, inviting Alex to move back over to lean against him. Alex refused to move. He felt tears pricking the corner of his eyes. _Fuck_. It was such a struggle to keep his emotions in check these days. They flared hot and fast, and, if he wasn’t careful, he ended up hurting the people he cared about.

Alex stared at Justin for a long minute before saying, “This is important to me, and I don’t want to hide it. I want everyone to know.” 

“It’s important to me too!” Justin blurted out, his hand convulsively grabbing Alex’s elbow. “It’s just Jess–”

“What about Jess?” Alex asked quietly, dread creeping in. Was Justin _still_ in love with Jessica? Was he biding his time with Alex, settling for second best while continuing to pine after the all-consuming goddess that was Jessica Davis?

“It’s fucking complicated,” Justin said. “You dated Jess. Then I dated Jess. And then you two sort of dated again. And then Jess and I–.” Justin broke off and looked away guiltily. He had let go of Alex’s elbow and brought his hand up to his eye, rubbing fiercely.

“Hooked up at the dance?” Alex finished for him. “While she was ostensibly dating me?”

Justin flinched. “Yeah.”

“I'm still pissed about that by the way.” Alex pulled Justin’s hand down from his eye before he irritated it with all that rubbing.

“I know,” Justin said. “And this summer, the three of us, I don’t know, danced around each other? And now you and I-, we’re dating? It sounds…”

“Like a messed up soap opera?”

Justin shrugged dejectedly. “Or like neither one of us could make it work with Jessica, so we started dating each other instead.”

“That's what you think?”

“No! But I don’t want other people to think that about Jess. Or about you.”

Alex clenched his fists. _Just breathe, just breathe. Don’t get upset._

“Okay,” Alex said patiently. “That’s bullshit though. You shouldn’t put any of that crap on Jessica. This is your issue. I get why you're so protective of her, and I get why you’re always so mindful about how she feels. It’s like you’re making up for what you did. But, honestly, it's kind of annoying that you define yourself and what you want around her all the time. She's moved on from both of us. She's happy. So, let it go. Let _her_ go. You don't need to carry that weight anymore. Okay?”

“Okay, yeah,” Justin agreed, raising his hand and stretching it towards Alex. “Come back?” 

Alex gave in. He pushed himself back over and curled his body against Justin's solid frame, his head resting against Justin's tattoo. An arm wrapped around him, pulling him close.

“Can we start smaller?” Justin asked. “Like I’ll tell Lainie and Matt that you’re my boyfriend, and you tell your parents that I’m yours. Deal?”

“Okay,” Alex said. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was a concession he was willing to live with for now. And, fuck, maybe this was all more difficult for Justin than he let on. It _was_ hard to redefine yourself. It was harder still to present and justify that definition to other people. And, beneath his devil-may-care jock exterior, Justin was very sensitive. 

“I already told my mom,” Alex confessed. “Not about you. Just that I'm bisexual.”

“Oh.” Justin’s arms tightened around him in silent support. “How did she take it?”

“She was fine with it. But she insisted on giving me the safe sex talk for the second time – except about guys instead of girls.”

“Educational?”

“Not as much as you’ve been.” Alex let his right hand drift up beneath Justin’s t-shirt, skirting along his tight stomach muscles to his rib cage.

Justin’s breath hitched, and Alex felt his heartbeat accelerate under his cheek. 

Alex smirked. It didn’t take much to get Justin raring to go. Alex teasingly traced one of Justin’s ribs. Then, he lazily moved up to the next rib, fingers moving in a light rhythmic swing, back and forth – making it clear that he wasn’t going to take things any further. Justin tensed and then, with a concerted effort, relaxed his body. Alex smiled. He could play Justin better than he could his guitar, that was for sure.

“You know what Clay did? He convinced Lainie that she was at a high risk of becoming a grandmother in the near future if she didn't give me the sex talk. He's such a fucking shit.”

Alex frowned. “Clay knows you’re with me though, right? So pregnancy isn’t exactly a concern.”

“Yeah. That’s why he’s a fucking shit.”

Alex rolled his eyes. Justin loved to talk crap about Clay, but the two of them were scary in sync these days—as if they had been brothers all their lives. It made Alex jealous sometimes, that he didn’t have the same easy relationship with Peter. Having a brother didn’t guarantee a close bond. He was glad it had worked out for Clay and Justin.

“So how awkward was it to get a sex talk from Clay’s mom?”

Justin rested his chin on Alex’s head. “Honestly, not that bad. I've had worse. My mom and I used to live in a one-bedroom apartment, and she would have sex with her boyfriend on our bed... while I was sitting right there. I guess she thought I was asleep.”

Alex’s hand stilled on Justin’s rib cage. “How old were you?”

“I don’t know. Seven, maybe.”

Alex felt sick. “That's fucking messed up. And borderline abusive.”

Justin brushed it off. “It meant I was ahead of the curve when it came to the mechanics.” He kissed the top of Alex’s head. “It’s fine.”

Alex swallowed heavily. He hated when Justin was so cavalier about his fucked up childhood. But he didn’t want to dwell on shitty past trauma when he could focus his energy on making Justin feel good instead. He slowly inched his hand down Justin’s stomach and fingered the top edge of his jeans.

“You know, I can’t tell my dad about us until he gets home.” Alex smoothly slid the zipper of Justin’s jeans down. Fine finger control was still too difficult; Justin would have to handle the button himself. “He doesn’t get home until 8.”

Alex pushed himself up on one arm until he could support his own weight and looked meaningfully at Justin. 

Justin smirked. “What are you saying, Standall? That you want to work on your ratio?” He leaned back on the bed, arms crossed behind him, immensely pleased with himself. 

Alex reddened. He wouldn’t have told Justin about the ratio if he had known that Justin was going to use it as innuendo. But the reality was that Alex was almost _always_ up to fooling around with Justin. In the middle of math class while watching Justin chew on his pencil eraser. In the school hallway when Justin’s gaze would linger on his when they crossed paths. Right now, with Justin on his bed… Alex wanted to render him speechless. He didn’t want to sound too eager about it, though. He wanted Justin to make the first move.

“I mean we could just work on the history study guide since Clay never sent the answers.”

“No fucking way,” Justin quickly said, launching himself at Alex hungrily. Their lips met and then it was all tongue and teeth and harsh, desperate breathing. As often happened, Justin quickly slowed it down, moving back to tenderly help Alex remove his shirt. He ripped his own off in one smooth movement—no tenderness for himself, only haste. 

Justin cradled Alex’s cheeks in his hands. “Okay?” he whispered.

“Okay,” Alex said. He knew that this was Justin’s invitation for Alex to take the lead. It had confused him the first time they had messed around, how submissive Justin was once things got heated. 

Alex had always thought sex would be quick-and-then-done, hot and desperate, followed by sweaty and sticky – like jacking off had usually been. But Justin was... pliant and needy. He wasn't as confident and cocky in bed as he tried to appear outwardly. He yielded the control to Alex, which was odd because, due to Alex's physical limitations, Justin had to do most of the work. Alex wondered if Justin was always like that when he had sex or if he was just like that when having sex with another guy. Or... was he only that way with Alex? The idea filled him with a burning _need_ for Justin—a desire to mark and claim, to kiss and fuck, to whisper "I love you" and to hear the words said back.

Alex didn’t mind taking charge. He fell down on his back, pulling Justin with him. Justin straddled him easily and then gently levered himself slightly to the side so that his body was not an uncomfortable weight on Alex’s thinner frame. As Justin nuzzled his neck, Alex reached behind Justin to dig his fingers into Justin’s ass through his jeans. 

“Fuck,” Justin groaned. 

“Yeah?” Alex said. He pressed his leg up against Justin’s groin. “This time, don’t come until I say, okay?”

“Okay,” Justin agreed huskily, his lips now brushing Alex’s jaw. “Tell me what you want, Alex.”

Alex slid his hand up Justin’s back and along his shoulder until he reached the hand that was slowly stroking his neck. He guided Justin’s hand down to the button on his jeans. “I’m not hard yet,” he admitted, voice shaky. “But your mouth on my dick might change that.” 

Justin pulled back and gave him an infuriating grin. He reached over and grabbed Alex’s bottle of lotion from his bedside table. Then he popped the button on Alex’s jeans and slowly began to kiss his way down his chest, leaving a red-hot trail of sparks and fire. The anticipation of what was to come left Alex trembling and breathless. 

Justin pulled down Alex’s jeans and boxers in one quick jerk. Alex closed his eyes tightly, trying to get lost in the sensations. The key was not to worry about his body’s potential lack of response. Instead, he needed to let go and let things happen naturally. His dick twitched in the steady, sure hand that stroked it. Justin gave a satisfied murmur. It was an instant turn-on—knowing that Justin wanted to suck him off, wanted it as much as Alex did.

When a warm mouth finally closed around him, Alex clutched at the bedsheets, and opened his eyes. Justin was looking up at him, blue-green eyes soft under his long lashes. Beautiful and stubborn, vulnerable and strong. The intimacy of his gaze made heat rush downward, and Alex’s dick hardened. "Fuck, Justin."

Justin pulled off and gave Alex a self-satisfied grin. His fingers brushed against Alex's thighs and then he reached up for Alex's hand, guiding it down to rest on his own head. Alex, smiling back, clenched his fingers in Justin’s hair to guide his movements and set the pace. Justin eagerly complied.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

His body might be broken, but when Justin made him fall apart this way, it felt like it was being restored. And later, when they cuddled in the hazy afterglow—Justin stroking Alex's sweaty back, Alex tracing lazy circles around Justin's tattoo—Alex didn’t feel broken at all. He felt whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no point to any of this… I just wanted to write Alex/Justin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex talks to his father.

Sex always wore Alex out. The straining muscles, the emotional rush, the physical release – all of it was exhausting and overwhelming. But the soft intimacy afterwards counterbalanced all of the intensity with tender warmth that enveloped him and assured him that he was _safe, valued_.

Justin had run himself ragged in his overexuberance and fallen asleep curved against Alex. His head was nestled in the crook of Alex’s neck, his arm lazily spread across Alex’s chest. Alex wanted to stay in this moment forever, cataloging all the varied sensations… the soft regular puffs of air against his neck… the firm, lean muscles solid against his thighs and stomach… the heady scent of sweat and sex and shampoo.

When this thing had first started between them, he had worried that it would quickly flame out, that Justin’s attention would become less desperate, less intense, as he discovered the full extent of Alex’s brokenness. But, through it all, Justin had never flinched. He treated him not as someone fragile but as someone worthy, as someone strong. He willingly accepted Alex's shattered pieces without trying to fix them. And, in some ways, Justin had proven to be equally damaged on the inside—a mosaic of pain that was discordant and unsettling, but all the more beautiful for its rawness.

Across the room, from where it had fallen on the floor, Justin’s phone buzzed. Once. Twice. Three times.

Alex ran his hand up Justin’s spine and nuzzled his head against Justin’s hair. “Justin, wake up.” He touched his neck, his jaw, his cheek. “Wake up, asshole. Your phone’s buzzing.”

“Crap.” Justin rolled over and then sat up, yawning. He leaned forward to plant a sloppy kiss on Alex’s shoulder before nearly falling off the bed trying to grab his phone. 

Justin cursed under his breath when he saw his messages. He held his phone up so that Alex could read the succession of texts that had come through.

**Clay:** _Justin, I have full faith in your ability to complete the study guide on your own._

**Clay:** _I’m not enabling you anymore._

**Clay:** _Get off Alex, and use your higher brain._

So, Clay had finally cut them off. No more free work. They had no choice but to get up, get dressed, and tackle the study guide. It was disappointing, but Alex couldn’t bring himself to care all that much. It wasn’t as if doing homework with Justin was that hard of a slog. Justin always had plenty to say about every history topic; his comments, equally idiotic and discerning, were entertainment in themselves. 

And then there were the pure aesthetics of it all… Justin, hair mused from sleep and sex, grumpily typing out answers on Alex’s laptop while Alex flipped through the textbook. From time to time, Justin would look up and unashamedly check Alex out with a smirk. So, yeah, even the most banal historical facts seemed more interesting these days—because Alex saw them all through the filter of Justin.

It was nearly 8 o’clock by the time they finally finished. Justin reluctantly packed up his book bag. Before he zipped it closed, he reached inside and pulled out a plastic bag filled with Hershey Kisses. He removed one and flopped back on the bed, holding it up tantalizingly.

“You know,” Alex said, “It’s just as corny the fifth time as it was the first.”

“Well, if you don’t want it…” Justin teased.

Alex reached out, fisting his fingers in Justin’s t-shirt and tugging him close. Justin fell forward in a controlled collapse to plant a quick kiss on Alex’s lips. He rested his forehead against Alex’s for a brief moment before straightening. He tossed the chocolate kiss in Alex’s lap.

 _A kiss for a kiss._ Justin fucking Foley. 

As Justin rolled off the bed and grabbed his backpack, he said, “Let me know how it goes with your dad.”

“I will,” Alex promised. “See you tomorrow.”

They shared one last look and then Justin was gone. 

Alex rolled the kiss between his hands. He brought the wrapped foil up to his lips, where Justin's lips had previously been. He closed his eyes and breathed.

He started when he heard the front door open. He hastily tossed the Hershey Kiss onto his nightstand behind his box of tissues. He counted to thirty and waited for the creak of the floorboards outside his door. The first thing his dad always did when he got home from work was check in on him. Alex smoothed out his t-shirt and combed his hair with his fingers. 

He wasn’t anxious about telling his dad about Justin. But before he had shot himself, when things had been so strained with his father, the prospect would have terrified him. Alex didn’t think his dad would have responded well to having a bisexual son back then. Not because his father was a bigot or homophobic, but because it would have been one more thing he wouldn’t have understood about him. One more step away from the hypermasculinity that his dad loved to extol. 

Thankfully, things had changed since then.

As predicted, his dad poked his head in the door, and seeing that Alex was not asleep, came in and sat on his rumpled bed sheets. Alex really hoped that Justin had done a thorough job of cleaning up their mess. 

His father, letting out a grateful little sigh, reached out his hand and brushed the stray hairs away from Alex’s forehead. Even after all these months, his father still acted surprised and relieved each time he came home, as if the prospect of finding Alex alive was not a guarantee. Alex carried the weight of that guilt. He had broken something in his parents, as if the bullet he had intended for his own brain had, in its passage, killed something in them... His dad’s stoicism. His mom’s trust. Their peace of mind. 

“Hey, kid.” His dad exhaled heavily. “How was school?”

“It was good. I got a B+ on my math quiz.”

“That’s great, buddy. And how’s the leg today?”

Alex shrugged. “A few pins and needles, but no worse than any other day.” 

His dad nodded, pleased. “Did you get some dinner?”

“Yeah, I had some of the leftover casserole in the fridge.”

“Okay, good.” He patted Alex’s leg and then stood up. “I’m going to go change out of my uniform.” He looked tired and careworn. 

Perhaps, Alex reflected, this wasn’t the best time to throw a curve ball at his dad. But, then again, there would always be an excuse if he searched hard enough, and he had told Justin he would do it tonight. His dad had reached the threshold of the room before Alex called out to him, “Dad, wait.”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“I kind of wanted to talk to you about something important.”

His father froze. His face was carefully neutral as he backtracked and lowered himself beside Alex once again. “Sure. What is it?”

Alex picked at his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles, and then bunching the fabric up and creating new pleats and creases. His hands trembled slightly. 

His dad cleared his throat. “Kid, you’re freaking me out a little here.” He gripped Alex’s chin between his rough callused fingers and forced him to look up. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I know. It’s stupid.”

His dad’s thumb swiped downward gently across his pulse point before letting go. “Alex, nothing you could say would be stupid to me.”

Alex looked into his father’s concerned eyes and, in a rush, blurted, “I’m bisexual, Dad.”

“Bisexual?” His dad’s face unconsciously twisted, like he was chewing on lemon rind. “That’s… um… so that means you like boys?”

“Boys _and_ girls.”

“Okay.” His dad brought his hand up to his own chin, stroking idly. His forehead wrinkled. “Well, that’s new.”

Alex sighed. “It really isn’t. I’ve known for a while, since before freshman year actually, but I didn’t tell you. I have a boyfriend now, so it’s kind of important that you know.”

“A boyfriend?” His dad’s face was stone, impossible to read. He didn’t respond but continued tapping his finger against his face distractedly. 

Alex patiently gave him time to digest the news. He had expected it might take a good few minutes, but his father surprised him by breaking the silence in less than one. “So, who’s the lucky boy?” 

The question was sincere and genuine. Alex couldn’t help the smile that formed involuntarily. “Well, you actually already know him. Justin Foley.”

His father dropped his hand from his face and stared at Alex confusedly. “So, Justin's bisexual too?”

“No, he's not.”

“Gay?”

“No.”

His father raised his voice angrily. “If he's straight and he's stringing you along...”

Alex quickly jumped in. “He's not straight, Dad.”

Alex watched amusedly at the effort his father made to wrap his brain around that. His mouth opened and closed in several false starts before he said, “If he’s not straight or gay or bisexual… Well, I'm kind of running out of options here, Alex. What's left?”

“Justin's… just Justin.”

His father looked pained. “Justin-sexual. Is that a thing?”

Alex let out a brief, sharp laugh. “No. He doesn't like labels. It’s... how he is.” When Alex had first met Justin, he had seemed so one-dimensional and shallow. The more he got to know him, the more Alex realized that he would never be able to put Justin in a neat box. He was infuriating. Surprising. Defiant.

His father gazed at him thoughtfully, taking in every inch of his face, logging his body language and his posture. Just like he would do to a suspect… or a fragile witness. “You're absolutely sure that he's not straight? That this isn’t some kind of–”

“Prank?” Alex asked unhappily. “God, Dad, Justin’s not fucking around with me.” Is that really the first thing that crossed his dad’s mind? That Justin Foley, consummate jock and co-captain of the basketball team, was only taking an interest in Alex Standall as some elaborate and prolonged joke? 

He could feel his body beginning to get worked up. The lump that rose in his throat threatened to choke him. Vaguely, he registered that his father’s hands were on his shoulders, squeezing gently. “Hey, calm down, kid. That’s not what I meant at all.” 

His father pulled his hands away and looked him straight in the eyes. “It’s just… There was that accessory to felony rape charge. As a father and as a cop, that's very concerning to me. If you are going to be involved with Justin, I need to know you are safe.”

 _Oh._ Alex was suddenly ashamed. There was nothing belittling in what his father was thinking after all. He was simply being overprotective, the defining trait of his new parenting style. Alex couldn’t even fault his dad for his concern. His dad knew about Justin’s involvement in Jessica’s rape; he had been the one to question Justin at the police station about it in the first place. That event was a dark stain on Justin’s character, and, to some people, it would always dominate how they viewed him. Alex didn’t want that to be the lens that his father saw Justin through. It _was_ a part of him (it always would be), but it wasn’t the most important part. 

“Dad, I get why you might worry about _that_ , but you don’t need to. I know how Justin comes across sometimes, but he’s actually really… I don’t know…” What was a word that his father would appreciate? “He’s… respectful. He wouldn’t ever hurt me.” 

His father accepted his words with magnanimity. “Okay, buddy. That’s all I needed to hear.” 

Alex cheeks warmed. “And he’s also definitely not straight. He really likes my dick.” His dad choked and spluttered, but Alex heedlessly continued, “Plus, he basically lets me take the lead in anything we do when it comes to sex. So yeah… You don’t need to worry.” 

His father, recovering, slapped Alex on the thigh in a jocular manner. “My boy’s the pitcher, huh?” 

Alex internally simmered. The comment grated, but he knew his dad didn’t mean any harm by it. If anything, he actually looked pleased by the prospect. As misguided and narrow-minded as it was, the assumption was probably his dad’s way of trying to bond, to find a point of commonality. At least he hadn’t asked who was the girl in the relationship. 

“Uh, no, Dad,” Alex finally said. “That’s not what I meant. And can we maybe not talk about that?” 

“All right, all right,” his dad said. “Just be careful okay? You’re still healing physically. Whatever you’re doing, or not doing, sexually… Don’t get overambitious. Teenage boys and hormones… I know a little bit about that. Makes you think you’re up for anything.” 

“Fine. Whatever.” Alex knew it sounded dismissive, but this conversation had taken a route he had not been prepared for. 

His dad clearly sensed his unease, but he continued anyway. “Do we need to talk about other things? Safe sex?” 

“No,” Alex quickly said. “Mom’s handled it. Believe me.” _Thank God._

“Your mom knows?” 

Alex nodded. 

“Well, good.” His father didn’t even try to hide his relief. He probably felt like he had dodged a bullet. Alex did too. 

His father’s expression became serious again. “Well, buddy, male or female, my rules still apply. I know we’ve been over this before, but it bears repeating.” 

His dad held up the fingers of his right hand and began ticking off his five points. “So, one, always be respectful. Two, always make sure you are respected. Three, be safe. Four, never assume that consent is given. Always ask. And five, if anybody ever mistreats you or tries to do anything you don’t want done, you get somewhere safe, call the police, and then let me deal with him or her. I carry my side arm for a reason.” 

Alex pointed at his dad’s uniform badge. “I don’t think you can say things like that.” 

His dad shook his head firmly. “When it comes to you, kid, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to guarantee that you’re safe.” His dad leaned in conspiratorially. “Now, do I need to go over these rules with Justin?” 

Alex winced. “God, Dad, no!” 

His dad smiled tightly. “Okay. Okay.” His knees cracked as he stood up. “Nothing’s changed between us, Alex. I’m glad you told me.” His dad studied him for a beat and then his eyes crinkled around the edges. “Why don’t you invite Justin over for a family dinner on Saturday? As your… As a…” He paused. “As your boyfriend.” His eyes met Alex’s as he said the word. There was nothing but complete acceptance in his gaze. 

“Thank you, sir. I will.” Alex hesitated. “You’re not going to get your gun out and clean it in front of him or anything?” 

“Would I do that?” 

Alex grimaced. “It does seem like a cliché that you’d be willing to embrace.” 

His dad chuckled. “Well, kid, Justin should already be well aware that I carry a gun and a badge. I don’t need to parade the fact.” 

Alex laughed. “Believe me, he knows.” 

His dad leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I love you, kid, and all I want is for you to be happy.” 

Happiness. Once so foreign a concept. Now— 

Alex thought of the creases and divots that formed across Justin's face when he laughed at something Alex had said. The way Justin would sometimes sit beside him and cry, unabashedly allowing Alex the privilege of witnessing all his vulnerability and grief. The hitch in Justin's breath and the worshipful way he would murmur Alex's name before he came. 

Justin’s long fingers, his cocky smile, his toned muscles. The way he saw Alex, really saw him, behind all the pain and shame and acrimony. The way he touched him, one moment so tentatively, the next so possessively, all his focus intent on Alex's pleasure. The feeling when they came together. 

Yes, all that was happiness. 

Alex smiled. “I am happy, Dad. Really happy.” 

~~~~~~ 

Once his father had left the room, Alex rooted around on his bedside table for the abandoned Hershey Kiss. Once he found it, he gingerly unwrapped the foil and popped the chocolate in his mouth. The sweet, warm taste reminded him of Justin. 

He could call or text Justin and let him know how it went, but that would mean extending his dad's invitation for Saturday dinner, which seemed unnecessarily cruel. Justin would no doubt freak out, and Alex wanted to be there to reassure him in person. 

Tomorrow then. 

It seemed far away, but anticipation was a gift. These days, there was always a tomorrow to look forward to, a tomorrow of little moments filled with his friends and, now, his _boyfriend_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are, of course, more sexual orientations than gay, straight, and bisexual. Mr. Standall tries, bless him, but he's not the most enlightened human being.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin freaks out about his upcoming dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Standall.

Justin fiddled with his phone, his legs bouncing up and down on the couch with nervous energy. Glancing at the empty space next to him, he remembered the last time Alex had been sitting there. 

It had been a Saturday night. The two of them had been sharing a bowl of popcorn, watching some bizarre nature show—but not really watching because Justin was stroking the back of Alex’s neck, cherishing the way Alex acted like a fucking cat, leaning into the pressure of Justin's fingers and sighing softly when he ghosted along the hairs at the nape of his neck. At the same time, Alex had been lazily running his hand along Justin’s upper leg, casually making figure 8s and, at random intervals, squeezing Justin's thigh… Yeah, it had been hard to focus on whatever was on the TV, because his focus had been arrested by electric blue eyes and the sarcastic commentary delivered by well-shaped lips. 

Frustrated, Justin pushed himself off the couch and then charged around the corner and up the stairs to his bedroom. He sat down on his bed and tried to relax, to not think about Alex. But, he was on his fucking _bed_ , where Alex had been sprawled out on Monday afternoon after school, his forehead scrunched as he worked on a math problem. He had been taking it way too seriously (who cared what the angle of a triangle was anyway?). So Justin had tried to smooth the worry lines away by peppering kisses along Alex’s neck. 

It had worked and the next half hour had been spent breathing into Alex’s mouth, tangling their tongues together, tasting Alex's lips (Alex always tasted sweet — like chocolate and artificial sugar and cherries). With the warmth of Alex’s body against his, with Alex’s hands roaming and grasping and sending jolts of pleasure to every nerve ending… It was better than any temporary bliss that heroin had ever provided Justin. Because, unlike opiates, it was real. It lasted.

Long after Alex had left the house, the thought of his smile, of his laugh, of his blunt comments... fuck, even the fond way Alex called him _asshole_ and _dickhead_... all of it sustained Justin. Made him happy to live, made him more willing to deal with his shit, made him desire to be a better person than he had been before.

 _Fuck. Fuck._ Now Justin was all alone in his bedroom, and, yeah, there was no way his empty bed would help him get his mind off of Alex. Or, more importantly, off of what was to come tomorrow evening. When Alex had told him about the upcoming dinner, he had made it sound so fucking casual. 

_”My dad wants you to come over Saturday for dinner with him and my mom.”_

_“I thought you said it went well?”_

_“It did go well. He’s cool with us being together. But I guess he wants to show he’s cool about it. He likes you. Don’t worry.”  
_

Don’t worry? How could Justin not fucking worry? It was kind of a big deal.

He launched himself off his bed and down the hall. He paused at the bathroom door. He didn’t have any memories of Alex associated with that room. Not yet anyway. It might do. Justin went into the bathroom and closed the door. He sat on the edge of the bathtub and chewed on his fingernails.

But, shit. This was where he jacked off. Ever since Clay had insisted that he didn’t want to hear Justin doing _that_ ever again in their bedroom, Justin had been forced to take his business to the bathroom.

And ever since that day when Alex had reciprocated Justin’s hesitant kiss, well, the only person Justin wanted to jack off to was Alex. 

Alex. The constellation of moles along his upper back. His soft hair after a shower, which Justin would run his fingers through—slowly and carefully brushing against the scars on his scalp. The way Alex bit off a "fuck you!", which meant "I'm irritated at you but I'll get over it." His ragged breath when Justin’s hand strayed to his hips. The way Alex took control, allowing Justin to let go and give selflessly of himself, with no fear of forthcoming pain or manipulation. 

Fuck. Justin was unbearably hard. He unbuttoned his jeans and closed his eyes, and then in his mind eye’s it was only Alex fucking Standall until he met his release.

 

* * *

 

The elation didn’t last long. Soon, he was barreling back down the steps and into the kitchen. Clay looked up at him from over his laptop. He stopped typing.

“Justin, if you’re going to do laps, do them outside. I’m trying to concentrate, and this is the fifth fucking time you’ve interrupted me.” Clay abruptly snapped up straight in his chair. “You’re not high, are you? Or looking to get high?”

Justin flipped him off. “No! Fuck you.” He hesitated. Clay could be a convenient distraction. Or, even better, he could maybe offer some unbiased insight into this fucking mess. Justin reached forward and closed the lid of Clay’s laptop.

“What the hell?” Clay protested, trying to raise the lid but unable to do so with Justin’s hand resting on top of it. “What is your deal, Justin?”

“Alex told his dad about us!” 

“What about us?” Clay asked apprehensively. “What did we do?”

“No, not you and me. Alex and me! Alex told his dad about us being boyfriends.”

“Okay? Whatever, man.” Clay picked up Justin’s hand and manually moved it until it rested on the kitchen table. “I’m actually working on something important right now. A college application essay, since you didn’t ask.” He re-opened his laptop. 

Justin tried to push the lid back down, but Clay made a barrier with both his hands to prevent the closure.

“Clay, this is an emergency. Mr. Standall invited me over for Saturday night dinner.”

Clay's face got red. “You’re really starting to piss me off. Get a dictionary and look up the definition of 'emergency'. You're over at Alex’s house all the time.”

“Yeah, but that was before Mr. and Mrs. Standall knew that-” Justin paused.

“Before they knew that you're boning their son?” Clay asked bluntly. His face got serious as he, at long last, gave the dilemma his full consideration. “Yeah, you're right. I'll start planning your funeral.”

“Clay!” Justin folded his arms on the table and collapsed his head onto them in despair.

Clay sighed and touched his arm. “Mr. Standall’s a lot less scary now, you know.”

“Not when it comes to Alex’s wellbeing.”

Clay patted him awkwardly. “Err, okay, that's true. But Alex is at least 200% happier whenever you’re around. Believe me, you two are ridiculous together. It’s kind of sickening.”

Justin looked up hopefully. “You think?”

“Yes,” Clay said decidedly. “And what’s the worst that could happen? I mean you successfully dealt with Mr. Davis over the summer when you were with Jess. How much worse could Mr. Standall be?”

Justin’s stomach sank. Why did Clay have to fucking bring that up? “Mr. Davis wouldn't let me come over to his house to see Jess unless I was in the same room as him at all times. He even followed me to the bathroom and waited outside the door!”

“Didn't stop you from sneaking in her window,” Clay pointed out.

Justin ignored the comment. “And he wouldn't let Jess come over here without a ‘responsible adult’ around to babysit.” 

Justin’s heart raced in his chest. It was suddenly hard to breathe. If his access to Alex was cut off or restricted... It was unthinkable. He wouldn’t survive it.

Clay shook his head. “Calm down. You see Alex five days a week at school anyway.” 

Justin grumbled. “Yeah, but no one knows we’re together at school, so it’s different. And I don't get one-on-one time with him.” 

Clay covered his ears. “Please, Justin, stop. I don’t want to hear anything about your one-on-one time.”

“I didn’t mean it like that! Get your head out of the gutter, bro.” But, mainly just to annoy Clay, Justin went on, “You know I’ve slept with a lot of girls, and they were all great, but Alex is on a level all by himself. I never knew sex could be so... profound? Is that the right word? He makes me feel-”

“Justin, I swear to God, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to record this conversation and hand deliver the mp3 on a flash drive to Mr. Standall.”

Justin shut up.

 

* * *

 

That evening, at dinner, Justin pushed the lasagna around on his plate, mixing it with his cottage cheese and cooked spinach.

“Everything okay, Justin?” Lainie asked. Her face was so sincere and her eyes were crinkled with such solicitude that Justin felt bad. He usually dug into whatever Matt or Lainie cooked for dinner with vigor. He had never been so well fed before coming to live with them. 

“Yeah,” Justin replied, smiling reassuringly. “I was wondering, though… Is it okay if I go to Alex's house for dinner on Saturday?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Matt said. “It’s nice of them to invite you.”

Clay looked at Justin meaningfully.

Justin braced himself and then plunged ahead. “Well, the Standalls wanted to meet Alex’s new boyfriend. So… they invited me…” He trailed off, twirling his fork repeatedly, anxiously waiting for their reaction.

Clay gave him a completely unsubtle thumbs up from across the table.

“Oh, is that so?” Matt asked mildly, taking a bite of his lasagna. “This tomato sauce is amazing, Lainie. Did you buy a different brand?”

“No, I don’t think so. It does have a heartier flavor, though, doesn’t it?”

Justin smiled reflexively. Inside, though, his stomach churned. Shit. He thought he was being so smooth with the whole ‘Hey, I have a boyfriend now, and, surprise!, I’m not straight’ one-liner. But, apparently, it had gone right over his parents’ heads.

Clay watched him with concern for a minute before coming to his rescue. “What Justin means,” Clay began loudly, “is that he wants to go over to dinner at Alex’s house. Alex, who is my _friend_ and Justin's _boyfriend_.” Clay swept his hands around dramatically in the air, like a fucking idiot.

“Yes, we heard him,” Matt stated. “Was I not clear? Lainie?”

Lainie reached over and touched Justin’s hand. “Yes, honey, it's fine.” She gave him a warm, comforting smile.

“Okay, good,” Clay said. “To be absolutely clear though, because I think you guys are being a little oblivious here, Justin and Alex are dating. Each other.”

“Clay,” Justin hissed. “They get it.”

Clay swiveled his gaze between his mother and father. “Do they?”

“Yes, Clay,” Lainie said patiently before turning back to Justin. “When did you and Alex get together, sweetie?”

“A few weeks ago,” Justin said timidly. He knew that the Jensens would be okay with his relationship, but still… it had to come as a bit of a shock that his relationship was with a guy, right?

“Well, I’ve always liked Alex,” Matt said. “You two are a good fit.”

“Mm-hmm,” Lainie agreed. “You should invite Alex over for dinner on Sunday.”

“What does Alex like to eat?” Matt asked.

“Junk food,” Clay interjected.

Justin glared at him. “You don’t have to do anything special,” he told Matt.

“I think we should. Ask Alex what he would like to have, and we’ll make it happen.”

“Okay, yeah. I will.” Relieved, Justin began to eat with relish. The constant buzz of anxiety that had been gnawing away at his brain dialed down a notch.

No matter what happened on Saturday, he could officially introduce Alex as his boyfriend to his family on Sunday. That dinner, at least, was guaranteed to go well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin comes over for dinner at Alex’s house, has a talk with Mr. Standall, and obsesses over Alex.

Justin arrived at the Standalls’ house twenty minutes early. He parked the Prius on the street and sat, restlessly tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and cursing the fact that he had given up weed. It would really calm him the fuck down right about now.

Justin hadn’t planned to arrive this early. He wanted to be punctual, sure, but he didn’t want to appear overly eager. He had imagined himself strolling up to the house, confident and in control. Instead, here he was, all jumpy and anxious—like a 13-year-old boy about to crap his pants when copping his first feel. Everything was heightened when it came to Alex, and that included Justin’s nerves.

Clay had not been at all helpful at reassuring him while Justin got dressed for the dinner. His brother had decided that it was his duty to lecture him about proper meeting-the-parents dinner etiquette. He had rambled on and on about what to do, what not to do, what to say to Mr. and Mrs. Standall and what topics, at all costs, to avoid.

It was intolerable. As if Clay had _ever_ met anyone’s parents. Although, annoyingly, he would probably make a good impression if he did—Clay had that wholesome “good kid” vibe going for him. By contrast, Justin had his reputation as a “troubled juvenile delinquent” working against him.

But it wasn’t like he was meeting Mr. and Mrs. Standall for the first time. They had been kind to him in the past. Mrs. Standall was always welcoming, if overbearing, and Mr. Standall bizarrely saw Justin as a good “masculine influence" on Alex, which was total bullshit. It was Alex who was the good influence. Justin didn’t know how he had ended up so lucky. All he knew was that he didn’t want to screw this up.

It was a high bar. Fucking up was Justin’s specialty. But he’d give up everything if it meant not fucking things up with Alex.

Justin checked his hair in the dashboard mirror one last time, and then got out of the car. He couldn’t stand waiting any longer. So what if he was early? Better early than late.

Alex opened the door about a half second after Justin knocked. He must have been waiting (impatiently?) for him to arrive. Justin considered teasing him about it, but he found it hard to form words because Alex looked fucking amazing.

A few brown strands of hairs were falling across his forehead; Justin wanted to reach forward and sweep them away. He wanted to cup Alex’s jaw and press a greeting to those slightly parted lips. If nothing else, he wanted to run his hand down the sleeve of Alex’s maroon cardigan, which was concealing all that tantalizing real estate underneath.

What he did instead was stand there like a fucking statue, paralyzed by the work of fine art in front of him.

Alex’s eyebrows rose in a silent question. His eyes flitted to his Justin’s lips for a moment before again making eye contact.

“Hey,” Alex said in greeting, standing there all fucking casual and composed while Justin felt like he was about to have a heart attack. 

Justin brought the bouquet of flowers from around his back, holding them up for Alex’s inspection. “I got these for your mom.”

“You’re really trying to score some points with my dad, aren’t you?” Alex asked. “He’s crazy about all that chivalry shit.”

“Yeah, I figured. What about you?” Justin separated the two long stemmed roses from the bouquet and presented them to Alex. “Does getting flowers make you hot?”

“No,” Alex said stubbornly. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with roses?”

“I don’t know,” Justin sniffed. “You could put them on the table by your bed or some shit. Or throw them away. I don’t care.”

Justin cared.

“They’ll just die in a few days,” Alex said skeptically.

“Then I’ll buy you some more, Standall.”

Alex shook his head with that shy embarrassed smile of his, the one that got Justin's heart racing. He couldn’t help but feel pleased with himself. He had put that smile on Alex’s face.

“Are you going to come in?” Alex asked, stepping backward.

“I was waiting for you to ask. Now who’s not being a gentleman?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “I prefer chocolates you know,” he muttered sulkily as Justin stepped inside the house and removed his jacket. He one-handedly slung it onto a free peg by the door.

Justin turned to Alex. “You don’t have to fucking choose, Alex. You can have both.” He glanced around the entryway, and seeing neither of Alex’s parents in the near vicinity, he opened his arms, a wordless invitation. Alex gave him a brief hug (too brief), but the short moment in which Alex’s body was curved against him was enough to calm and center him. And, fuck, Alex smelled good. It gave Justin an instant high.

He could do this.

Alex led him into the kitchen, where Mrs. Standall was removing a casserole from the oven. Mr. Standall had been talking to her, but when he saw Alex and Justin, he broke off. He was dressed in his sheriff’s uniform, which was intimidating, but his face wasn’t stern and he clapped Justin lightly on the shoulder when he saw the bouquet of flowers.

“Justin. How you doing, kid?”

“Good, sir. Thank you for having me.”

“You know we always like having you over,” Mrs. Standall said. She came over and gave Justin a hug. She had never done that before. Justin relaxed into the embrace, trying not to fall apart. It fucked him up emotionally, being so willingly accepted by someone else’s mother.

It was the same with Lainie. Sometimes her gestures of affection made Justin want to sink to the floor and sob, for no real reason other than the fact that they were given so freely and he had done nothing to deserve them. Lainie, Carolyn... Neither woman was his mother but they were both _motherly_ , in a way that his real mom had never been.

After Mrs. Standall released him, Justin gave her the flowers. 

“Aren’t you sweet.” The paper wrapping crinkled in her hands. When she noticed the two roses that Alex lazily twirled between his own fingers, her face seemed to actually fucking glow. “Thank you, Justin. You’ve got a good one, Alex.”

“I try,” Justin said sincerely. “Alex makes it easy.” He glanced at Alex.

Alex just shook his head in exasperation. So, okay, maybe Justin was putting it on a little for his boyfriend’s parents, but fuck, they had created Alex. They had raised him. And they could also block Justin from seeing him. So whatever it took, he was going to be on his best behavior tonight.

 

* * *

 

Sitting at the table between Alex and his father was extremely awkward. The fact that the man knew that Justin and Alex were having sex… Why the fuck did Alex have to be so forthright when he came out to his dad? And worse, why did he have to give enough details about their sex life that Mr. Standall now thought that Alex was the top and Justin was the bottom in the relationship?

It was laughable because Justin Foley could top the shit out of anyone. He could set the pace and dominate and make his partner fall over the edge. He didn't always want to call the shots, though. Sometimes he wanted to give up control, to be passive and accommodating. It was all about trust—trusting someone not to hurt you, not to take advantage. It was easy to trust Alex.

So, Alex on top of him or under him—it didn’t matter. Justin would take anything that Alex would give him. All the same, if Justin had had his way, his and Alex’s sexual activities could have been left in the realm of ‘plausible deniability’ with Mr. Standall. Fucking Alex. Always so fucking blunt.

Why was he even thinking about sex right now? He was two feet away from Alex’s father. He wouldn’t put it past the sheriff’s deputy to read his mind and take Justin to the backyard with a literal shovel in his hand.

Flustered, Justin focused his attention on his plate and the meal Alex’s mother had cooked.

“This is the best rice I’ve ever had,” he said after stuffing his mouth with four bites of the dish.

Alex shot him an amused look. “Dude, it’s not rice. It’s quinoa.”

“Keen-what?” Justin asked.

“I’m surprised you’ve never heard of it,” Mrs. Standall said. “It’s what we call a superfood. It has all nine of the essential amino acids. It’s full of iron and fiber and antioxidants. Much healthier than rice. Alex loves it, don’t you honey?”

“I’d rather have a burger,” Alex sighed, pushing his fork around on his plate. Justin made a mental note to ask his parents for burgers for tomorrow night’s dinner.

Justin swallowed another heaping forkful of the tiny grains. “It’s really great, Mrs. Standall. And the spinach is awesome.”

Alex snickered. “It’s kale, not spinach. And it’s gross.”

“I like it.” Justin smiled at Alex’s mother. She beamed back at him.

Mr. Standall murmured assent. “That’s the spirit. The kale is a bit bitter, but if you mix it in with the quinoa, it’s more palatable.” He stared Justin down. “Sometimes you’ve got a little bad mixed in with all that good. But it doesn’t ruin the overall flavor if it’s nicely mixed.”

Justin didn’t think they were talking about kale anymore. He was pretty sure the comment was directed at him. “Yes, sir.” He reached for his glass of milk, but, because he didn’t think he’d be able to swallow anything right away, he began to absently spin it around.

Under the table, Alex’s hand found his thigh and the weight and pressure of his fingers silently offered support – _You're good. I'm here._

Justin sat up straighter, and, voice steady, he asked Mrs. Standall whether she liked working 12-hour shifts at the hospital. As he listened to her reply, he let go of his glass of milk and brought his hand under the table to interlock his fingers with Alex’s.

He held onto Alex’s hand throughout the rest of the dinner, even though it meant finishing his food with his left hand, which required a lot of focus and coordination. Alex kept giving him a little grin each time he fumbled his fork on the plate. Justin would pay him back for that later. Although Alex would probably actually enjoy the payback ideas he came up with (so would Justin).

After the main meal, there was dessert – if cantaloupe could be counted as a dessert. Alex made it clear that he didn’t think it should even be considered an edible food. Justin secretly agreed, but it didn’t stop him from eating two servings out of appreciation.

“So, Justin, how are things going at home?” Mr. Standall had relaxed back into his chair, settling in for a chat. Justin hoped it wasn’t going to be an interrogation.

“Really good. The Jensens are incredible.”

“And how are your classes?”

“Good, sir. Clay’s freakishly smart, and he helps me out a lot. I get free tutoring whenever I want, basically.”

“He is a great tutor,” Mrs. Standall agreed. “Clay’s been very helpful with Alex. He’s a very kind boy.”

“Yeah, he is.” Justin couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face. “I’ve never had a brother before, but I think I've got the best one now.”

“And how’s basketball?” Mr. Standall asked. “How’s the team?”

“We’re going to dominate this year. #1 for sure. There are a lot of college recruiters coming to look at Zach, which is great. He’s killing it.”

“And what about you, Justin?” Mrs. Standall asked. “What do you plan to do after school? College?”

“Yeah. I’m applying to several schools, all in California. Matt-, uh, Mr. Jensen receives a tuition waiver for his children, which I guess includes me now, so I’m hoping I get in where he works. It’s kind of competitive though.”

“You’ll get in,” Alex stated. The confidence in his voice threatened to set Justin aflame. He pointedly avoided Alex’s eyes. If he looked, he was afraid he would get lost in the blue depths for longer than was appropriate.

“Well, I think that’s very smart,” Mrs. Standall said. “It would be good to save money on all those student loans.”

“That’s the plan.” Justin stroked the smooth webbing between Alex’s thumb and index finger. “And Alex… He’s definitely going to get some of those scholarships he’s applying for in the music program.”

Mr. Standall frowned. “Scholarships are great, but we’ve been trying to explain to Alex that he needs to pick something more realistic than music for his long-term future.”

Alex scowled. “I bet you wouldn’t say that if I was up for a football scholarship, dad.” His voice was strained, the prelude to an outburst.

Justin felt a rush of heat and a strong desire to fight the person who had upset Alex. But, seeing how that person was Alex’s father, Justin thought it better to use words instead. “I disagree, sir. Music _is_ a realistic goal for Alex.”

The muscles in Mr. Standall’s face locked up, and he leaned forward on the table, his posture stiff. Undeterred, Justin continued on, “Alex’s freakin’ talented, and he’s really passionate about music. You should be more encouraging and support him. He works hard, and he’s going to blow everyone away at his auditions.”

Alex let go of Justin’s hand and coughed nervously. Mrs. Standall began clearing the dishes. Mr. Standall never broke his gaze with Justin, the tension ratcheting up degree-by-degree as the silence stretched. Justin refused to look away, not sure if he was coming off as insolent or assertive. Hopefully the latter.

Finally, Mr. Standall nodded approvingly. “I appreciate a man who says what he thinks and stands his ground. Even if I don’t agree, I can respect you for sticking up for my kid, no matter how misguided it is.”

“Uh, thank you?” Justin wasn’t sure if he had just gained or lost ground with Mr. Standall, but defending Alex was instinctual. He hadn’t been able to stop himself. He would do it every time; it didn’t matter who the opposition was.

Justin shifted in his chair. He wished he could recapture Alex’s hand, but Alex now had both his elbows on the table. It seemed too brazen for Justin to reach for those lithe and graceful fingers in full view of a man of the law.

Mr. Standall cleared his throat. “Alex, why don’t you go help your mother with the dishes, and give me a moment alone with your boyfriend.”

A burning pain shot across Justin’s chest and his throat constricted.

“Dad,” Alex protested. “You promised you were going to be cool.”

“I am being cool, buddy. I’d just like a word with Justin. Don’t talk back, and go help your mother.”

“It’s fine, Alex.” Justin tried to sound composed, even though the adrenaline flooding his body made him want to bolt from the table.

“Whatever.” Alex pushed his chair back and stalked off, his gait unsteady. Strong emotion always threw off Alex’s balance, and, because Alex was refusing to use his cane these days, there would be no support if he stumbled. Justin, on edge, tracked every foot placement, but thankfully Alex used the wall to balance himself as he exited the room.

Mr. Standall, gripping the table’s edge, also intently followed Alex’s progress. No matter what the man thought of Justin, at least they agreed on one thing: Alex’s safety was paramount.

Mr. Standall sighed heavily and stretched his arm across the table in front of Justin. “Alex’s had a hell of a year.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And from what I’ve heard, it seems you’ve had a hell of a time of it as well.”

Justin shrugged. “It could have been better.”

Alex’s father formed a fist and knocked it twice on the wood surface. “No need to trivialize what you’ve been through, son. I’m in law enforcement. I’ve seen some shit.”

“Right. Yeah.”

“Look, Justin, nothing means more to me than my children. I like you just fine, but I have some valid concerns about this relationship. Alex is-, well, he’s fragile right now.”

Justin twisted to face the man, timidity replaced by burning anger. “He’s not! I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. Alex isn’t fragile! He’s the strongest person I know. He doesn’t bow down to anyone. Or take any crap. And I’m not fucking going anywhere. As long as Alex wants me, I’ll be here.”

Justin leaned his arms on the table defiantly. Inwardly, however, he winced. _Fuck. Fuck. What am I doing?_

Mr. Standall arched his eyebrows. “I’d appreciate it if you tone down the language.” There was an icy edge to his words as he continued. “How long have you been interested in my son, Justin?”

“Since the moment I first saw him,” Justin answered honestly. “Sophomore year. And I know you think I'm playing around or something with Alex - he told me what you said - but I promise this relationship isn’t anything casual for me. I would never hurt Alex. I’d rather die than hurt him.”

Mr. Standall laughed dryly. “Well, it’s not necessary for you to die. I think that would _definitely_ hurt him.”

“Oh, right. Yes, sir.”

“Look, kid, before this _thing_ started between you and my son, I had a good feeling about you. And since Alex has a lot of faith in you, I’m willing to extend the same courtesy. But, all the same, I’m keeping an eye on this relationship. I’m trusting you with Alex, and that boy means everything to me. Anyone who upsets him will be answering to me. You understand?” The man straightened the badge of his chest meaningfully.

 _Fuck._ Justin couldn’t control the shaky breaths that muddled his next words. “Yes, I-, I understand. Perfectly. Thank-, thank you, sir.”

Justin supposed he looked appropriately terrified, because Mr. Standall gave him a strained smile. “All right. If anybody ever gives either one of you a hard time about your relationship at school, you let me know. And you’re welcome over here anytime for dinner. My wife’s a good cook, but God help me if I know what I’m eating half the time either.”

Justin would have laughed, if he weren’t so damn tense. Mr. Standall abruptly stood up, so Justin jumped up too. The man offered him his hand. Justin shook it firmly, not flinching when Mr. Standall squeezed a little too hard. It was as close to approval as he was probably going to get. He’d take it.

 

* * *

 

After an hour of playing video games in Alex’s bedroom, Justin decided to call it a night. He wanted to stay (he _always_ wanted to stay where Alex was), but he was hyper-aware of Mr. and Mrs. Standall being in the house. He figured he should play it safe and duck out early—before Alex’s parents began checking in on them.

At the front door, he dropped a short and chaste kiss on Alex’s lips. When Justin pulled back, Alex grabbed his arm, a displeased frown on his face. “What the hell was that?”

“Your dad might be watching,” Justin whispered.

Alex smirked. “Yeah, and if he saw that kiss, he’d think you weren’t man enough for me.”

Not one to back away from a challenge, Justin stepped closer, pulling Alex by his shoulders and moving him sideways until he was pressed against the door. Alex let out a quiet gasp when Justin licked the corner of his lips, and then he opened his mouth invitingly.

The kiss was warm and slow. Justin let Alex deepen it, let him tug Justin’s body flush against his own.

Justin wanted to hold onto the moment for as long as possible—his nose brushing against Alex’s, Alex’s hands bunching in his shirt, Justin's right hand bracing his weight against the door so that Alex wouldn’t feel crushed, their two bodies slotting together like broken puzzle pieces finally finding their match.

When Justin moved back, Alex sighed. They stared into each other’s eyes for a minute, breathing hard.

“Was that man enough, Standall?”

“Could have been better.”

Justin swirled his tongue along his bottom lip. “I guess I’ll have to practice then.”

Alex’s cheeks colored. “As long as you’re practicing on me.”

Justin stroked Alex’s arm and then pulled back, teasingly. “Well, I was thinking about trying Clay, actually. He’s waiting back at home, you know.”

Alex swatted him. “You dick.”

Justin leaned forward one last time and kissed Alex’s forehead. Alex closed his eyes and let out a rough, needy exhale. A wave of arousal crashed through Justin, but he pushed it back (doing so was like climbing a _fucking mountain_ ).

He helped stabilize Alex’s balance as they stepped away from the door, and then he reached for the doorknob reluctantly. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow for dinner at my house.”

“Okay,” Alex said. “Text me when you get home.”

Alex stepped outside with him. He stayed watching from the doorway as Justin walked towards the Prius. Justin couldn’t help the swagger in his step as the thought of Alex’s eyes lingering on him, unabashedly checking him out, as was his right. 

And as Justin drove away, his last image was of Alex standing on the threshold of his home, lit from behind with a soft yellow glow. His warm smile and subtle wave goodbye were imprinted on Justin’s brain for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> justlex is everything pure and sweet.


End file.
